aching, she gave a particularly brilliant and joyous smile.

Once again at the mention of Calderwell's name Arkwright stiffened
perceptibly. The fire left his eyes. For a moment he did not speak;
then, gravely, he said:

"Calderwell? Yes, perhaps he would; and--you ought to be a judge, I
should think. You see him quite frequently, don't you?"

"Why, yes, of course. He often comes out here, you know."

"Yes; I had heard that he did--since _you_ came."

His meaning was unmistakable. Alice looked up quickly. A prompt denial
of his implication was on her lips when the thought came to her that
perhaps just here lay a sure way to prove to this man before her that
there was, indeed, no need for him to teach her, to save her, or yet to
sympathize with her. She could not affirm, of course; but she need not
deny--yet.

"Nonsense!" she laughed lightly, pleased that she could feel what she
hoped would pass for a telltale color burning her cheeks. "Come, let
us try some duets," she proposed, leading the way to the piano. And
Arkwright, interpreting the apparently embarrassed change of subject
exactly as she had hoped that he would interpret it, followed her, sick
at heart.

"'O wert thou in the cauld blast,'" sang Arkwright's lips a few moments
later.

"I can't tell her now--when I _know_ she cares for Calderwell," gloomily
ran his thoughts, the while. "It would do no possible good, and would
only make her unhappy to grieve me."

"'O wert thou in the cauld blast,'" chimed in Alice's alto, low and
sweet.

"I reckon now he won't be staying away from here any more just to _save_
me!" ran Alice's thoughts, palpitatingly triumphant.

CHAPTER XXI. BILLY TAKES HER TURN AT QUESTIONING

Arkwright did not call to see Alice Greggory for some days. He did not
want to see Alice now. He told himself wearily that she could not help
him fight this tiger skin that lay across his path, The very fact of her
presence by his side would, indeed, incapacitate himself for fighting.
So he deliberately stayed away from the Annex until the day before he
sailed for Germany. Then he went out to say good-by.

Chagrined as he was at what he termed his imbecile stupidity in not
knowing his own heart all these past months, and convinced, as he also
was, that Alice and Calderwell cared for each other, he could see no way
for him but to play the part of a man of kindliness and honor, leaving a
clear field for his preferred rival, and bringin